


The Nutcracker, but it's in Jugdral

by xanemarths



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Family Reunions, But no one knows that, Celice is nonbinary, Christmas, Levin is actually Forseti, M/M, Magic, it just works, loptyr is the mouse king
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 01:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13136328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanemarths/pseuds/xanemarths
Summary: When Arthur is invited to Celice's Christmas party, he expects it to be a simple, fun affair. Of course, nothing can be quite so simple when there's a meddling god playing at being human involved, but hey! At least there's a handsome prince, too...





	1. Act I Scene I

**Author's Note:**

> So ever since 25 days of Xanemarth I have apparently tasked myself with writing one Christmas Fic each year. Of course, no other fic has been quite so long as that one, but I digress. This year, I decided I wanted to write a nutcracker parody, and so I did.
> 
> There's not enough Setyarthur appreciation.

At noon on Christmas Eve, Arthur startles and leaps several feet backwards into a snowdrift, as Mahnya swoops down from the sky. A beautiful wreath is hung ‘round her neck, bells jangle on her reigns, and a pair of very fake antlers are attached precariously to her head.

“Woah, woah there, girl!” Fee shouts, turning on her mount to give him an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that - I _promise_ I wasn’t about to trample you, though.”

Arthur chuckles, nervously; he hasn’t the heart to confess that the pegasus makes him nervous, anyways. “Right, right, I believe you… What’s all this for, though? Some special occasion?” he asks, gesturing at both Mahnya’s decorations, and Fee herself - a red cap, trimmed with white fur, hangs slightly askew on her head, and the sweater she’s wearing was… certainly a homemade sweater!

She grins at him, widely. “It’s almost Christmas, Arthur! And I came here to tell you that Celice is hosting a Christmas Party, and you’re invited!”

Fee hands him a very official looking slip of paper, and he glances over it; it’s hand-inked, beautifully, with little drawings of trees and candy canes and… some… unidentifiable blob with horns and a red dot, and Celice’s own signature, too! There’s no time listed, no rsvp, and he looks back up at Fee, eyebrows raising. “I’m assuming I have no choice whether or not I go, then?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face and a glimmer in his eyes that suggests he doesn’t really mind.

Fee shakes her head. “Nope! Now come _on_!”

* * *

They land at Celice’s a few hours later, and they usher the pair in, all smiles and cheer. “Welcome! Come on in! We're _just_ finishing up on the tree decorations, and we've been baking cookies all day, too!”

Arthur is infinitely more comfortable in his skill at decorating than his skill at baking, and so also, apparently, is his sister - so he joins with her, most of the Tirnanog kids, and Ares to work on the tree. By the time that's done, he's been half covered in tinsel and he’s wheezing with laughter; after that, it’s time for an early Christmas Eve dinner, to be followed by cookies and carols and hot chocolate.

At half past ten, a knock sounds at the door, and before anyone can reach it, it blows open, revealing a strangely familiar cloaked figure, carrying with him a large red bag. Wisps of his long green hair poke out from underneath his hood and flutter in the breeze, and for a moment Arthur is certain that there’s an unnatural glow in those green eyes...

“Levin!” Celice shouts, a grin breaking out on their face; they and the other members of the Tirnanog crew rush to swarm the man, broad smiles on their faces as they clamor like children to see what he's brought with him. “Levin”, as he's called, smiles, a mildly bemused yet simultaneously delighted expression that Arthur swears he’s seen before, and there's a certain familiar fondness as he greets them.  
At his side, Fee bristles, and he glances at her, brows furrowing in concern. “Do you know him?” he asks, and she snorts, derisively.

“ _Know_ him? He’s my _dad_ , Arthur,” she says, spitting out the word “dad” with enough venom to make Arthur wince.

“ _That's_ your dad?” he asks, quite taken aback - he’d heard the stories, of course, but he'd never imagined… “You know, I'd never imagined he'd be the sort to - nevermind. Of course he would.”

Fee stares at him, looking almost flabbergasted. “...Wait a second, hold on. Are you implying that you know him?” she asks, and Arthur hesitates for a moment.

“Well, I can’t _quite_ say for certain, but… He sort of looks like the merchant who taught me wind magic…” he says. Fee looks like she wants to say something more, but before she’s able to, Celice interjects.

“No, but really - what’s in the bag, Levin?”

Levin’s smile broadens, his eyes twinkling in delight. “Well, Celice,” he says, tugging on the drawstrings around the opening, “I’m glad you asked!”

The mouth of the bag bursts open with swirls of green light, and a pair of dolls pop out of it, twirling and dancing with the wind. On the back of one is a pair of feathered wings, that move and flutter about, occasionally catching a draft and gliding for a few moments, before gracefully landing back on the ground. The other wields a sword, that waves and parries and strikes at some invisible enemy; on one particularly impressive display, it appears to briefly catch fire!

Eventually, the dolls both come to a rest at Levin’s sides, and a new wave comes out - two scruffy creatures that prance and snuffle and scurry, and Arthur almost can’t believe that they’re merely toys until they, too, settle at Levin’s side, just a little too stiff and still to be real animals.

There’s lots of ooh’s and aah’s and aww’s, and almost everyone is still fussing over the animal dolls when the next creation slowly clambers its way over the lip of the bag. There’s no flourish, this time; no pomp and ceremony, nothing to immediately draw attention to it - but Arthur can’t help but stare at it anyway.

It’s plain, and obviously wooden, unlike the rest - so shiny, so realistic - and its movements are jerky and strange, without the joints needed to move properly. And yet, it’s charming and nostalgic in its simplicity, and it’s hard for him not to feel drawn to it more than the rest. Slowly, the rest of the group seem to realize the newest addition, and there’s a strange quiet as they watch the figure jerk around. Levin bends down, pulling a pouch from heavens knew where - and from it, he pulls out several large, shelled nuts. He tosses them at the wooden figure, and before anyone can even blink, there’s a small green burst of wind from the doll, and the nuts fall to the floor, shells cracked clean in half.

Levin stands back up, looking rather pleased with himself. “And _that_ , is quite the powerful little nutcracker.”

Arthur claps, once, before realizing that no one else is; he falls back into embarrassed silence, but he still has eyes only for the little nutcracker. Around him, the others shift, muttering to themselves, and as Arthur glances around he realizes that the delight that’s infected him doesn’t seem to be affecting anyone else.

Levin, however, has already caught on. “Well. At least _someone_ appreciates my finest creation!” he says, before bending down and scooping up the nutcracker with one hand. The rest of the group murmurs, brows furrowing in confusion, as he crosses over to Arthur, and presents the wooden toy to him. “Well then,” says Levin, the corners of his mouth twitching in delight, “since you seem to like it so much - would you like to have it?”

Arthur hesitates, not sure what to say. On one hand, he _does_ \- for all its strange magic, there’s something about the wood and the whimsical greens and blues that’s comforting, that reminds him of the childhood he’d all to swiftly lost. On the other hand, though, just accepting the gift feels _wrong_ somehow, as though he shouldn’t, it wasn’t made for him, the others deserved something as well - but Levin’s smile is nothing if not encouraging, and he hesitantly starts to grab the nutcracker-

“What are you _thinking?_ ” Fee hisses, quietly, suddenly by his side. “Don’t take it, Arthur - I dunno about you, but something about this whole deal feels…” she stares at the nutcracker, frowning at something only she seems able to see, “...really fucking weird. And not in a good way.”

Arthur glances at her, and then back to Levin, who seems more bemused by the situation than anything, hanging his head to the side like some sort of funny dog. Shaking his head, his fingers close around the nutcracker, anyway. “I can’t just refuse a gift, Fee! It wouldn’t be polite,” he murmurs, just loud enough for her to hear - across from him, Levin’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You two _are_ aware I can hear you, right?”

“Yes,” Fee snaps, without missing a beat, and Arthur can’t help but giggle. So much for being polite.

If Levin is phased by this, it barely shows; the emotion comes and passes quickly, replaced once more by that mysterious smile. “Well, then!” he says, with a flourish; “I’ve accomplished my task for the night. Farewell, all of you, until next time - and, _do_ enjoy your gifts…”

He winks at Arthur, he’s sure of it - but he’s gone in a flash, and when Arthur asks, no one else seems to have noticed. The bag of toys is left beneath the tree, and the others debate over what else is in there, and how they can’t wait until Christmas day to see!

His stomach growls, suddenly, and while everyone else is chattering away, Arthur sneaks off to the kitchen to grab just a few more cookies. He's grabbing a plate when there's a crash from the living room, and the very distinctive sound of Tinny wailing. Needless to say, he dashes back quickly, all thoughts of snacks forgotten - and, there in the middle of the room is his sister, and on the floor is the nutcracker, one of its long wooden legs snapped in half.

Tinny winces and draws back as he approaches, and he wishes nothing more than to wrap her up in a hug as she panics and starts to apologize, it was an accident, she’d just bumped into the table - but he hesitates, hovering close but not yet touching her, trying to keep his body language open and calm, not anxious or upset. “It’s okay, Tinny,” he says, “it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to. We can still fix him up, right?”

Tinny takes a deep breath in an attempt to swallow her panic and nods. Her arms open, slightly, and he takes that as his cue to hug her close to him. “That doll’s not more important to me than you are,” he murmurs, and Tinny squeaks at that!

“Arthuuuurrr…”

Celice, seemingly always prepared, has already found glue by the time they break apart, and they carefully set the nutcracker on the living room’s coffee table and begin repairing it. Despite her protests at him accepting the nutcracker, Fee hovers close by, almost anxiously, as they work; but there is no need to worry, for the repairs go without a hitch. The glue has started to set when Tinny pauses, and hums. “He needs a bandage,” she announces, pulling out a thin white ribbon and handing it to Arthur.

“Where did you… oh, nevermind,” Arthur says, taking the ribbon from Tinny and carefully wrapping it around the nutcracker’s leg. She helps him tie the end into a bow, and they both smile at that; the figure is just as good as new, if not better, and now he’s nicely bandaged up, too!

The delight lasts but a moment, though, soon replaced with exhaustion. It’s hard to suppress a yawn, and when it finally escapes, it passes to Tinny, as well, and soon the entire party is yawning. “Hey…” Celice starts, pausing a moment to yawn themself, “you know, it’s getting a bit late… maybe we should all bunker down for the night? Tomorrow is Christmas, and all, and I’m sure we’ll all want to be up bright and early for that… Let’s get some sleep. There’s plenty of beds, and couches, and other places to sleep…”

There’s a very quiet murmur of agreement from the group, and everyone slowly filters out of the living room to find a place to sleep. Fee and Tinny leave together, and something tells Arthur that he’d be an unwelcome guest if he followed them - so he decides to stay behind and curl up on the couch, nutcracker held securely against his chest.

Tired as he is, sleep refuses to come to him. He tosses and turns, careful not to lay on the nutcracker, but nothing works, and his restlessness refuses to leave.

At midnight, the clock strikes twelve. Arthur lifts his head to glare at it - and that is when he notices something very odd. For, when he’d looked at it earlier, he had seen a carved dragon roosting and proud atop the clock - but now, in the dim light, he sees Levin. The man grins at him, wide and toothy; in the dark, his eyes glow green with mischief, and there’s something about it that feels _not quite human._

But, alas, he has not the time to ponder that, before the man waves his hand, and disappears like ashes in the wind. Arthur reels in shock, and it takes a moment before he processes that the tree seems to be growing larger - nay, the whole room around him is!

Or, maybe he’s just shrinking.

...Oh, shit.


	2. Act I Scene II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's still Christmas somewhere?
> 
> This chapter was actually meant to be part of the first chapter, since it's all the same act, but I certainly didn't finish it by Christmas Eve (and act II is probably going to be much shorter, anyway, because it's hard to translate an act where the plot is basically "and everyone is dancing" into text). I'm kind of glad I only got to it tonight, though; once I started writing it, everything flowed much better than it did on any previous attempts to write this chapter!

When the room around him finally stops growing, Arthur finds himself no bigger than the nutcracker he’d just been holding. ...Or, at least, he can assume that he’s about the same height, for when he glances about, he discovers that the nutcracker is no longer on the couch with him.

Odd.

He makes his way over to the edge of the couch and glances at the floor, wondering if perhaps the nutcracker had fallen during the transformation; however, there’s still no sign of it, and he gives a somewhat upset huff at that. Of course, the first night he’d had Levin’s gift, and he’d already lost it! Levin would surely be angry, would he not?

He remembers the grinning man on the grandfather clock, and shudders. Perhaps not.

Arthur paces on the couch for a while before returning to the edge and slowly peeking over once more. At his current height, the once almost inconsequential drop now looks almost terrifying. Still, he’d fallen from higher places, and the couch is boring and barren. What if the nutcracker had fallen under the couch?

After taking a moment to steel himself, Arthur leaps, doing a perfect roll upon landing and _not_ ending up in a heap, thank you very much. His first order of business is to check under the couch, but there’s nothing there - not even enough space for the nutcracker to fit! He stands back up and huffs, hands going to his hips as he wonders where exactly the damned thing could have disappeared to. Surely he’d still be able to see it, even if it shrunk with him!

Behind him, he hears claws skittering against hardwood, and he whirls around to see - absolutely nothing, other than one of Celice’s cabinets. He snorts and shakes his head, because, wow, now he’s _really_ imagining things - and goes back to puzzling out where his nutcracker is. His gaze drifts to the tree, where Levin had placed his bag earlier, and an idea hits him. Perhaps, if his nutcracker wasn’t anywhere else, it had simply returned to Levin’s bag? The man had already shown off his wonderful and magical toys, and the nutcracker had moved and walked on its own, earlier. Maybe, with Levin around to provide his magic. it just walked back to the bag?

It’s as solid a theory as any, so he makes his way to the bag to check. It takes longer than usual, because at this size, everything is suddenly so far away. A few times, he can swear that he hears the skittering claws behind him, and he swears they’re getting closer - but every time he checks, there is nothing but blackness, and he decides it’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

Until he reaches the bag.

There is a cry behind him, strange and inhuman, and Arthur whirls around to find… a creature. The closest thing he can compare it to is a dragon, composed of solid darkness. Something in its face, and posing, though, is eerily human, and it stares at him with crimson red eyes.

“Hello,” says the dragon, an eerie grin stretching unnaturally wide across its face, showing off every tooth and fang. Levin’s smile, at least, had been mischievous - but this creature was _monstrous_.

It lunges for him, only for a green-blue blur to slam into it - and Arthur watches in disbelief as his nutcracker manages to knock the dragon back by maybe only a few inches.

“ _FUCK!_ ” roars the dragon, anyway, twirling, surprisingly lightly, on its feet to face the nutcracker. “Oh, you always _were_ the meddlesome sort, _Forsetispawn!_ ”

The nutcracker dances back a few feet, even nimbler then the dragon, keeping his left leg’s landing almost featherlight. It (he?) doesn’t respond at first, glaring at the dragon. “Out,” he says, finally. “Get out. You don’t belong here.”

The dragon pretends to be an approximation of hurt. “Don’t belong here? Really? You’d say that, while intruding on my, aha, little family reunion?”

Arthur raises his hand, slightly. “Um, excuse me,” he says, “but I don’t know you?”

The dragon-creature turns to face him, looking _actually_ shocked. “Don’t tell me you could have forgotten your _dearest, darlingest_ little cousin, now could you!?”

Arthur scratches his head. “Uh, well, you don’t really look much like Amid, or Linda, or Ishtar, and I’m pretty sure Ishtor was older than me…”

The dark dragon gives a noise like a shrill shriek, stamping its foot on the ground for a few moments - before very quickly straightening and whirling towards the nutcracker. “Never mind! I have bigger fish to fry, at the moment, such as someone _else_ who shouldn’t be here! Especially not looking like _that_.”

The nutcracker looks almost offended, and conjures up his green wind magic, but the dragon is too quick, throwing itself towards him with a mighty screech. The nutcracker curses, jumping back several feet to dodge as the dragon hurtles into the floor with a _crack!_

Unfortunately, that was the floorboard itself, and not the dragon’s skull; it rises unscathed, though perhaps just a bit stunned. “Why… are there two of you,” it mutters, staring at the nutcracker; after a moment, it shakes its head and puffs up, hissing as it flings itself towards the nutcracker once more. He dodges again, dropping the spell he’d been readying, cursing as he lands much heavier on his feet this time - and thus begins their dance; the nutcracker would start to ready his spell, only for the dragon to attack before he could use it, and he’d dodge away gracefully, wash, rinse, repeat.

It seems as though it could go on, almost infinite - but the nutcracker quickly starts to tire, wincing and gritting his teeth every time he lands. His once graceful dodging slows, growing heavier and less coordinated, and the beast’s attacks come closer and closer to landing a hit on him every time. It’s not long before Arthur realizes that, unless he’s given time to recover and make his attack, the nutcracker is going to lose.

The dragon swipes, and the nutcracker dodges, landing several feet away - but he lands wrong, and he gives a pained yelp as his left leg almost crumples beneath him - and suddenly, Arthur remembers the accident earlier, where Tinny had knocked him off a table.

There’s a white ribbon bound around the nutcracker’s left leg like a bandage. He’d been fighting injured the whole time. _Of course_.

The nutcracker almost doesn’t dodge this time, only barely avoiding the dragon’s claws. Arthur decides to take action, and scrabbles for one of his tomes; perhaps _he_ could attack the terrible dragon-thing, give the nutcracker time to recover - but he finds nothing, and he curses as he realizes that they must not have shrunken with him.

The dragon makes a noise like a cackle, and swipes at the nutcracker, tearing the front of his little blue jacket to shreds. The nutcracker winces and draws back; tiny slivers of red bloom from the scratches, and Arthur just can’t take it.

Naturally, he decides that if a tome isn’t available, then the next best thing is...

“OY!” he shouts, as the scaled creature turns towards him, eyes blazing like wildfire - only to be whapped in the forehead with a slipper with enough force to make it go momentarily cross-eyed. “I thought we were having a family reunion here!”

The dark dragon puffs up, and as it turns towards him, Arthur realizes that he might have made a bit of a mistake. It takes a step towards him, and he scrambles backwards, tripping over his own feet and landing in what may have been the least dignified heap he’d ever been in (and he’d been in many). One step at a time, it advances upon him, slow at first, but moving ever faster-

Only to be caught in a swirling gust of wind, more powerful than any magic Arthur had ever experienced. It whips through his hair and threatens to tear at his clothes, and the dragon-thing, caught while running, blows away with a terrible roar of disbelief.

He breathes a sigh of relief, heart still pounding fearfully in his chest, and allows himself to sink even lower into his pile. He’s still but a moment when he remembers the nutcracker, and he bolts upright to see just how well he’s faring-

The nutcracker stands, half-bent, on shaking legs; his breathing is heavy and labored, and he seems thoroughly exhausted. His eyes, beautifully brown and green, flicker up to meet Arthur’s, and, after a moment, he gives a deep, heaving sigh, and starts slowly limping towards him, grunting every time he put weight on his stiff injured leg. He collapses, almost bonelessly, next to Arthur, and lays there for a while, simply panting.

“Well,” he says, finally. “That went well.”

Slowly, he turns to face Arthur, the softest of smiles forming on his lips - and it is then that Arthur notices that the stiffness of wood has faded away, and been replaced by something more like flesh - no, no, it is flesh; the once wooden nutcracker now appears to be so very, very human. “I can’t thank you enough, really - I’d be dead if not for you,” he says, warmly, and Arthur can’t help but laugh nervously, and hope that his face isn’t heating up.

“It’s nothing. I threw a _slipper_ , that’s all!”

“Yes, but that slipper saved my life,” the nutcracker points out, with a breathless laugh. “You threw a slipper at _Loptyr_ , for goodness sake, and you bound my leg earlier. I wouldn’t be here if not for you. Thank you.”

They lay there in silence for a long moment, and Arthur slowly processes the fact that the nutcracker remembers- “So, wait. How long have you been, like, sentient for?”

The nutcracker scowls. “I've _always_ been sentient. Being turned into a generally inanimate object wasn't my idea.”

Arthur shrinks slightly into his scarf, thinking the question must have been gravely offensive to ask - and how dumb of him, too! He manages to keep the next question ( _“so, did Levin turn you into a nutcracker then, or?”_ ) bottled up, though, choosing to go with an apology, instead. “Oh. ...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

The nutcracker waves a hand, smile easing back onto his face. “I… can’t really fault you for being curious. Especially when you couldn't have known, anyway.”

They both fall into awkward silence, still winded after the battle. Arthur catches himself shifting closer to the nutcracker, so he instead turns onto his side to face him. “...Say. if you weren't always an inanimate object, then, what were you before?”

The nutcracker opens his mouth to speak, when the lull is suddenly broken by a call. “Prince Sety?”

Arthur jumps, scanning for the source; the nutcracker, however, merely nods to himself, as though he expected this. “Prince Sety!” calls another voice, deeper this time. Suddenly, a pegasus flies into view, carrying two people on its back - a girl who Arthur nearly mistakes for Fee, at first, and a taller boy with messy brown hair and bushy eyebrows.

“There he is!” the girl exclaims, and together the pair circles down through the air, heading towards them. The pegasus alights gracefully, and the two scramble off and head straight for the nutcracker. “Prince Sety!! Are you alright?”

They pull him up with a grunt of effort, and Sety, as the nutcracker was called, smiles shakily at them both. “I'm fine, Femina, I promise… It's just a scratch, and an injured leg. Nothing too bad. But, I do have someone to thank for that…”

He turns to face Arthur, who'd started to prop himself up on his elbows, and Femina and her companion turn to stare at him, as well. He blinks at them both, wondering when his head started spinning and they started multiplying, and raises a hand to wave. “Hi.”

And then his vision fades out entirely, and he can distantly hear Sety yelling as he collapses to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrived plot device chapter endings are a go
> 
> Please don't make Sety fight Loptyr in canon, he can't actually win,
> 
> Somehow writing Loptyr as a petulant child and making him say fuck gave me great joy. Arthur referencing his and Tinny's subkids also gave me joy. Writing Hawk and Femina into the story? Joy.
> 
> If Arthur is Azel-fathered, then Julius is his cousin. I guess Arthur just never got to know his dad's side of the family that well (though there's probably obvious reasons for that, too)


End file.
